


Mistledon't

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [85]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Party, M/M, Mistletoe, Office Party, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: OWCA's work parties have only ever been barely tolerable, and this is no different. The mistletoe doesn't help.
Relationships: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus
Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [85]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/746841
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	Mistledon't

**Author's Note:**

> It's a bit late but oh well merry crisis.

You can't believe this.

That's a lie, you absolutely can. Trust your superiors to pull you away from your family and their innocent joy for a _mandatory_ work Christmas party where you have no choice but to schmooze with your superiors for the _pretence_ that you're equals after work. It's not true, but who's going to tell _them_ that? You? No, you like your job where it is.

Drink in paw, you lurk near the edge of the fenced-off garden they'd decided would be perfect, which it had been before all the snow. At least here you're sheltered from the cold and wind, and able to appreciate the sight of the decorations. The interns went above and beyond this year.

Lifting your drink, you conceal a smile behind it. You adore this time of year, always have, and it never fails to lift your spirits. Not that you can afford to show it when you have a reputation to uphold. _Grinning_ doesn't come into it.

If only Peter was here to share your suffering. You still can't say you _like_ him much, but you've talked to him outside work a few times now and you can appreciate his skills. Keeping Heinz alive is a trial all on its own. Besides, living in Seattle's given him some unusual insights into the job. And a convenient out to avoid this party. Jerk.

You take another sip, letting the sound of idle chatter wash over you. And another sound, worryingly familiar, rising over the general menagerie of your coworkers. You glance over for the source of it, heart sinking. Please don't let it be _him_ , not _now_...

But there's no mistaking that _voice_. Heinz just can't leave you alone, can he? Not when he has to know you'd be attending. Somehow, despite being an evil scientist, he's more informed on OWCA's events than you are. And he's careening towards the fence on a runaway sled, screaming his head off, so all you can do is pinch the arch of your bill to ward off the oncoming headache. Maybe if you _ignore_ him, he won't destroy whatever dignity you have left the way he destroys everything else. It's hard enough to keep your professionalism up without him and his endearingly stupid face.

Crashing through the gate anyway, because nothing's going to stop this trainwreck from happening whether you want it to or not, he knocks over a snack table or two and slams into the wall. "I'm okay," he says, standing up, only to fall on the edge of the punch bowl a moment later. Not even a minute here and he's already made a fool of himself in front of _all_ your coworkers, there's no salvaging anything now.

You finish the rest of your drink in one gulp, drop the cheap plastic cup on the grass, and stride out from under the overhang. He's _your_ nemesis, that makes him _your_ mess to deal with. Weaving around the decorative street lamps scattered through the garden, every other one adorned with mistletoe, you make your way towards him.

Hiding was never much of an option. At six foot two, he stands well above most of your coworkers, and would be taller than your superiors too if he'd just stand up straight for once.

"Perry the Platypus!" he exclaims, expression brightening as he sees you. "Just the guy I've been looking for. Ooh, that looks good, what is it?" Already distracted, he pokes around, snagging a plate of Agent D's favourite snack to nibble on. He never did have much of a sense of self-preservation. "Walk with me," he mumbles through a mouthful of food, "I have a great scheme for you, you'll love it."

Somehow you doubt that. You're his nemesis, you know his usual style of scheming, you're the one who runs damage control to keep him from being a danger to anyone else. Or himself, for that matter. Usually himself.

Grabbing a drink from a passing intern's tray, he downs it, then takes another and keeps walking, with you following reluctantly behind. "What is this, actual champagne? You guys are _fancy_. Over at LOVEMUFFIN we, uh, we don't really do much for Christmas. Everyone's too busy with their _schemes_ , not to _mention_ all the bad memories. It's not a happy time of year for us. Lots of holiday spirit though! _Evil_ holiday spirit, but still! Anyway, I thought you could do with some _rescuing_. You're bored here, right? Place like this, of course you are. So- Wait, is this mistletoe? It _is_ , isn't it?"

You look up, _straight_ up, and internally groan in resignation. Of course it's mistletoe. And with the scene he's made, everyone's watching, waiting to see what you'll do. If you'll kiss your nemesis as per tradition, or walk away. His most ingenious trap yet.

Definitely should have stayed home, _mandatory_ attendance or not.

The mistletoe hangs from the top of one of the decorative lamps, swaying in the wind, _taunting_ you. It's _tradition_ , but you still can't comprehend why or how anyone could decide it would be a great idea to force it on your fellow agents, no matter how drunk everyone gets. And now look where you are. He's forced your paw.

You can't kiss him. It doesn't matter that he's looking at you with that hopeful expression he always gets, you can't do it. Scaling the lamp's pole instead, you tear the mistletoe away and drop back down, crushing it against your palm.

Heinz's smile has faded by the time you look back at him, and you suppress a wince. You're not rejecting _him_ , just the societal convention he trapped you with.

How do you explain that? You still have an audience and you're not like him, you don't thrive off the performance, being the centre of attention. He may enjoy having all eyes on him but all you feel is _exposed_. Taking a step back, and another, you stare at his face, at the hurt you caused. That's all _your_ fault. Closing your eyes, you turn tail and run.

"Perry the Platypus?" he calls after you, the ache in his voice like a punch to the chest, but you don't stop. You can't stop. You need somewhere quiet, out of the way, where you can sort out the feelings you'd tried to ignore. You need some time to _think_.

Retreating into the building, you put your back to the wall and slide down, knees to your chest. No one's around to see you like this, the first thing that's gone right all evening.

You've known about his feelings for a while. It's hard not to, when so many of his schemes revolve around _you_. One way or another, whether or not he realises himself, it's all about _you_. Here's a man so desperate for companionship he'll look for it in his _nemesis_ , and you let him think you were okay with that, didn't you? Until you didn't. Until you _weren't_.

Growling under your breath, you wipe away the tears threatening to fall. You'd pretended you hadn't _noticed_ , trying to buy time to figure out how to navigate this without compromising your job, your mission, or your friendship.

Familiar footsteps echo through the hallway. "Perry the Platypus?" His voice is only a shadow of itself, a whisper barely louder than a breath, and you curse yourself again. He comes around the corner, haggard and weary like you've never seen him before, and forces a smile. "I hope you don't _hate_ me? In the wrong way, I mean. Hating me as a _nemesis_ is different, you're _supposed_ to hate me. Not that I can _blame_ you if you _did_ want to leave, who would _want_ to stay after-" He shuffles his feet, keeping his distance. "You're an _agent_ , why would you want to- So, if you want to pretend it didn't happen, I don't mind-"

You shake your head, gesturing him closer. After everything you've been through together, he thinks you'd leave over _this_?

"If you say so," he says quietly, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, close enough to touch. He still towers over you but not by much, hunched over as he is.

If you're honest with yourself, you've wanted to kiss him for a while. Like the characters in your stories do. It's just always seemed like the wrong time, between your work and his monologues and everything else. But is there such a thing as the _right_ time? You don't know.

Reaching out with your empty paw, you cup it around the side of his face, stroking his jaw with your thumb. The other, you lift, letting the mistletoe dangle from your fingers, crushed but still recognisable.

He swallows, eyes wide. "What-"

Whatever else he was about to say is lost as you pull his mouth to yours in a kiss. It's a Christmas tradition, after all.

That you plan to keep doing it after tonight is no one else's business.


End file.
